Disclaimer:As always, I do not own Harry Potter or any of it's affiliates. I write fanfiction purely for my own enjoyment.
Chapter Two- Waking
The soft drip-dropping of water on his skin was what first brought Harry back from the dreamless unconscious he had fallen in. Vaguely, he wondered where he was. The cement walls that surrounded him weren't recognizable, but someone, sitting a few feet away was.
The Dark Lord was asleep-or at least he appeared to be, but it was not the Dark Lord Harry remembered from the graveyard. It was a younger, dark-haired version. The features were really more reminiscent of the Tom Riddle he had seen in the Chamber of Secrets, but older looking. Somehow, Harry found it attractive.
Quickly though, the Chosen One banished the thought and searched silently for an exit. Three minutes later and his search had yielded nothing. Harry had looked everywhere save beneath Voldemort. He gulped and inched closer to the older male.
Harry pushed Voldemort aside lightly, trying to not wake him. He gently pressed the wall and floor under the Dark Lord. It took but a second for Harry to fall through the floor and onto a plush surface. He rolled onto his side, and looked around.
There was no one with him, something Harry thanked the gods for, but he was also sitting on a bed. He assumed it was Voldemort's but didn't quite know for sure, and the thought was disconcerting. Slowly, he slid off of the satin sheet covered bed and made his way across a stone floor. Two black doors were situated five feet away on the wall. Harry approached the one first on his right, fingers curling around the silver handle unsurely. He turned the knob and opened the door.
Inside was a steam-filled room. The floors were tiled and a counter top of marble was situated on the side. A pure white sink was melded with counter, and its faucet was black. Across the room, the shower ran. Harry heard soft humming and lyrics being whispered in parseltongue.
"You shouldn't intrude on the Dark Lord's bathing, Potter. It is considered rude in the wizarding world- or do Muggle customs differ that much?" A cool, familiar voice whispered in the Chosen One's ear, as hands harshly grabbed his wrist. Harry started and his head swiveled around to stare at his captor.
"P-Professor Snape?!" Harry cried out. The sound of running water halted and a rather wet, naked Voldemort stepped into view. He looked the same as in the cement room, and if Harry had not been so surprised to see his professor, he would have wondered how Voldemort had pulled off the switch. Professor Snape on the other hand forced himself to stare at Harry instead of his Lord.
"Pot--" Snape started, but was interrupted when Voldemort raised a pale hand.
"Severus, do not bother. I will handle the Mr. Potter myself. He is in need of a..behavioral lesson of sorts. At six, I expect all followers at residence here to be in the dining hall. Now, leave."
Severus bowed low and exited. Sluggishly, Harry looked to Voldemort. The elder's naked torso was slick with water but his lower half had abruptly been covered with a towel.
"Well, Mr. Potter, see something you like?" The Dark Lord teased. Wait-- the Dark Lord teased..?? Harry blinked in surprise but quickly realised Voldemort was mocking him. Voldemort stepped closer to Harry.
"Well Mr. Potter, do you?" Voldemort questioned intently. Harry slowly backed but the door behind him flew shut and he was pressed into it. He shivered and glared.
"I hate you Voldemort-- Or should I say Thomas?" Harry's tone was confident, but he didn't feel what he portrayed. He was shaking on the inside, in absolute fear of what Tom could do to him in such a vulnerable position.
"Never call me that, you filthy half-blood!" The Dark Lord cried, wand poking at the jugular vein in Harry's neck.
"Hy-hypocrite.. " Harry gasped, his oxygen slowly being cut off by restricting magic. Voldemort's eyes narrowed.
"Apologize," Voldemort hissed in parseltongue. Harry's mouth opened to protest, but what came out was exactly what Voldemort wanted.
"I am sorry, Lord.." Harry responded. Voldemort smirked and his lips pressed to Harry's, breaking the younger's daze. He opened his mouth to scream and was only rewarded with a hot tongue pressing against his own. Harry shut his eyes tight and hoped someone would save him.
Author's Note: This is quite honestly not what I had hoped for--once again. I hope you like it though :/
